


As it Was

by jo2ukes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Communication is hard, F/M, Healing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Reunion Sex, Reunions are hard, caught in a rainstorm, literally just throwing a bunch of my fave tropes in here bc deduedes deserves it, lots of kisses, not beta'd so sorry in advance, only one bed at the inn, title and summary from a hozier song bc he is the only one that understands what love is, we're just gonna be soft and emo for a moment ok, what is consistent tense use and perspective???? i don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 20:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jo2ukes/pseuds/jo2ukes
Summary: “I will be there, loveWhatever here that's left of meIs yours just as it wasJust as it was, babyBefore the otherness cameAnd I knew its nameBut your love was unmovedTell me if somehowSome of it remainsHow long you would wait for meHow long I've been awayThe shape that I'm in nowYour shape in the doorwayMake your good love known to me”





	As it Was

Mercedes is ordered to stay behind at the camp rather than march on the Great Bridge of Myrddin. It comes as somewhat of a relief – she’s pleased to avoid conflict, instead spending the day bustling about, no time for stray thoughts, preparing things for the army’s return. She knows, unfortunately, she’ll likely be busy in the medical tent after such a battle – it is part of the reason the professor asked her to stay behind. As one of their strongest healers, it is best she reserves her strength and remains removed from harm’s way to help tend to the wounded upon their return.

The linens are pressed, firewood is gathered, the medical tent is fully stocked with fresh bandages and clean water. Her feet ache. Only when the sun begins to set does she stop to take a break. The army should be returning soon, had all gone well. She wrings her hands together, bowing her head. She has neglected her prayers today, which seems a foolish thing to do on a day when they are so desperately needed. She’s been so busy with her other tasks – intentionally so. As they’d set up camp so close to the bridge, she was more than eager to throw herself into her work. She doesn’t like thinking about battle when she isn’t there. She doesn’t like hearing the clang of metal on metal, the shouts of wounded soldiers. She doesn’t want to wonder which of her friends might not come back, or what would happen should they lose. It doesn’t help to think like that, especially when they’ve been pulled back from the brink of complete despair already. They are unified now, and it seems they are making significant progress toward their goals. Of course, it is much too early to truly celebrate or claim any sort of victory, but Mercedes sees every day has a small victory. Something to thank the goddess for.

“Um, I’m sorry to bother you, Mercedes, but the army is returning,” Marianne’s timid voice pulls Mercedes out of her prayer. “The wounded that can walk are on their way to the medical tent now. The rest are in a wagon that will arrive shortly.”

Mercedes stands, thanking her, rolling up her sleeves. The first group of soldiers that pours into the tent are in fairly good shape. A poultice here, a quick spell there and most of them were clear to return back to the camp and spend the night normally. From the bits and pieces she’s gathered from chatter with the others, it seems the fight at the Great Bridge went surprisingly well despite all the surprises.

“Who would have thought our numbers would be _bolstered _by the end of a battle?” A knight laughs, wincing as Mercedes finishes closing a shallow stab wound.

“Bolstered?” she asks. She hands him back his shirt.

“Count Gloucester seems to have been swayed to our cause,” he nods, pulling his shirt on and standing. “I was too far away from the reunion, but it also seems we were joined by a Duscur soldier. It almost looked like Dimitri’s old vassal…” his voice trails off.

Mercedes’ breath catches in her throat.

Could it really be Dedue? Dimitri had mourned him, told them all he was dead – that he’d willingly traded his life for Dimitri’s. It sounded like him. Selfless, ever loyal to his prince. Guiltily, she had wondered if she crossed his mind when he made the decision to die.

She clears her head. She hasn’t the time to dwell on him. As much as she’d like to race out of the tent and tear through the camp looking for the man she hadn’t seen in almost five full years, there were others that needed her attention. Marianne has stayed with her, making the process go faster, but she’s starting to look tired.

“I can take it from here Marianne,” she offers. “You ought to get some rest.”

The numbers of wounded were thinning, but she’d be busy for another hour at least. Well after sunset. She has no reason to be excited – there’s no official word if the man from Duscur was actually Dedue, but she’s always been hesitant to believe he was actually dead. Of course, it was for purely sentimental reasons. Sure, he was – _is_ – her friend, but their friendship had begun to blossom into something else during their time at the Academy. They cared for each other. Deeply. There’s no way of knowing that for certain, but she feels as though the bond they share is more than just the fleeting passion of young lovers.

That isn’t to say he still cares for her, she reasons with herself. Many years have passed since then – it isn’t as though they’ve kept in touch. It isn’t as though they could. It would be impossible to pick up where they left off… improper, even. At least, for the time being. Yet, her heart aches. Finding he’s alive after living so many years with the knowledge that he was dead… She just wants to be held.

Oh, but she’s getting ahead of herself.

\---

_“And Tanuen is… the goddess of the harvest?” Mercedes asks. Dedue nods, eliciting an excited gasp from her. Her eyes sparkle._

_“You’re an excellent teacher, Dedue,” she says, smiling sweetly. _

_“On the contrary. The praise belongs to you. You’re a good student,” he encourages, handing her back her notes – it is odd to see pages of notes on his culture, but he’s flattered all the same. They’ve spent countless hours together despite only just meeting months before, at the beginning of the school year. She’s always so full of questions, so curious about who he is and what his homeland is like. _

_He cautions all he students to keep their distance, but despite his warnings, Mercedes has continually reached out to him. All his classmates have, but Mercedes is different. While the others have befriended him despite his Duscur blood, she seems to be interested in him as he is. As a man of Duscur. As a man._

_Their fingers brush as she takes the parchment from him, her touch lingering. _

_“Oh, but it’s getting late,” she realizes suddenly, blushing. “I’m sorry to have kept you up for so long! You have a certifications exam tomorrow, don’t you?” She feels awful, packing her notes into her bag. “You should get some rest!”_

_“I am not worried,” he says softly. “It is… a nice evening.” He settles against the tree trunk, looking up at the stars. “And I enjoy spending time with you.” He says the last part so quietly she almost misses it._

_“I’m glad,” she smiles. “I enjoy spending time with you too.”_

_They sit in silence for a moment. They haven’t known each other for terribly long, but she has learned Dedue isn’t fond of holding long conversations. Over the past few months in which they spent increasing time together, teaching each other various family recipes or items of cultural significance, she realizes he’s content to listen if she wants to do all the talking. However, when there is nothing to say, the silence between them never feels cold or awkward. It is always comfortable._

_Mercedes leans against Dedue’s arm, letting out a contented sigh. _

_“Do you miss it?” she asks after a beat. He hums questioningly. “Duscur, I mean. It’s a silly question, I suppose. Of course you do. I just mean… if Duscur were restored tomorrow, would you go back?” She looks up at him._

_He bites his lip, clearly thinking over an answer, his handsome brow wrinkled in concentration._

_“That is… a difficult question,” he says finally. “While I dream of seeing my homeland restored to its former glory, I have made ties to Faerghus that would be… unbearable to sever.”_

_“You’d stay in Faerghus for Dimitri?”_

_“Yes,” Dedue nods solemnly, though his tone is as though he has more to say. He looks at her softly. “Though, he would not be the only reason.”_

_Slowly, he lifts his hand, hovering over Mercedes’ before letting it fall gently atop hers. She blushes, looking up at him before interlocking their fingers._

_His hand is much larger than hers – warm, gentle, safe. Her heart flutters._

\---

Rejoining the Faerghus army has resulted in reunion after reunion. Dedue is happy to see his old friends, happy that time has been kind to most, considering the circumstances – his heart aching for Dimitri – though, he is quite exhausted. Still, he graciously meets with all his comrades, the short greeting exchanged when he was first reunited with the army simply not enough. He hasn’t seen Mercedes anywhere, though Annette assures him she’s around – in the medical tent. He half contemplates going there to visit her, but stops himself. Her work is important and he has no place interrupting her. And it seems rather… presumptuous. She’ll find him when she’s ready.

Instead, he passes the time keeping watch, starting fires as the rest of the camp settles down to eat. Dimitri doesn’t come out for dinner, he notes, setting aside some rations for the prince. He’ll be hungry later, surely.

Mercedes doesn’t come to dinner either.

The sun sets and a still has fallen over the camp. Dedue takes up first watch. The others are tired from a long march and a hard fought battle – it seems the least he can do. Though, there is no rest for Dimitri, it seems. Dedue can hear him pacing back and forth in his tent. He has requested to be alone, however, Dedue is sure to never stray far. Dimitri has been alone long enough.

He is sharpening his axe, the warm firelight glinting off the steel when she finally appears. They lock eyes for a moment, her features lighting up when recognition finally settles in. She hikes up her skirts and runs to greet him.

“Dedue!” the sweet tones of her voice sounds like a reverent hymn. “It really is you!”

He stands, stiff and awkward, unsure how best to receive her. How do you say hello to someone you haven’t seen in several long years? Then add to that the fact that this someone was of particular importance to you and you yourself are uncertain this person still views you in the same regard? A hug somehow seems like too much and not enough all at the same time. A handshake is too distant – he’d honestly be better off with no greeting. A kiss is… too intimate, assuming too much. They’ve kissed before of course – he remembers every single one, he could never forget – but five years is a very long time.

She seems to sense his hesitation, slowing as she nears him. “When I heard you were back, I-” She stops, her arms jerking up and then down quickly, as she thinks better of the gesture. She settles on taking a step back and clearing her throat. Her cheeks are dusted with a pink blush and she tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s short now. It suits her.

“Mercedes,” he greets. He wants to pull her close, to kiss her until neither of them have any breath left, to tenderly stroke her cheek and hold her in his arms until the sun rises. But it is not his place. Instead, he settles on a smile and a deep bow. “I am pleased to see you are well.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” she hums finally, her eyes glistening. “I didn’t want to believe when Dimitri said you were dead.”

“I very well would be, were it not for a handful of my countrymen,” he explains. He studies her face. She hasn’t aged a day.

“Then I shall thank the god of war for ensuring your safe return,” she smiles, but it looks a bit sad.

“You still pray to the Duscur pantheon?” his heart flutters with something akin to hope. Knowing that she hasn’t forgotten him or the things he’s taught her is something of a comfort.

“Every day,” she whispers, nodding.

“Mercedes?” A man’s voice calls for her across the camp. Dedue doesn’t recognize it. He doesn’t care to. He doesn’t want to let questions seep into his mind – who would be calling on her this late and why, though, he may already know the answer to that – instead he wants to drink in her visage, for as long as the moment will last.

But she excuses herself and the moment passes.

He wishes he kissed her, but it is just as well he didn’t. It wouldn’t do for her to end up with a man from Duscur, no matter how much she had protested at first. It was true in their Academy days, and it is still true now. No matter what change peace may bring, his presence in her life would only create difficulties, hardships. Maybe she found someone from Fódlan to love. Maybe she finally came to her senses.

Maybe it is time he came to his.

\---

_The music pouring through the hall is lovely, though the bustling of students in and out and around the hall makes her a bit uneasy. Her eyes scan the crowds, looking for familiar faces, though there’s one face in particular she wishes to find. If she can find Dimitri, she can find _him_. Though, it turns out, Dimitri is on the dance floor, a blushing student in his arms as they waltz. Annette is with Felix. She can’t see Ashe or Ingrid. Sighing, she skirts to the edge of the hall – there’s a small balcony that’s technically still part of the hall, but farther away from the festivities so she can breathe for a moment. It’s a little quieter here and at least she doesn’t have to worry about being trampled._

_She turns her back on the ball, surveying the monastery grounds bathed in moonlight. There are other couples, wandering through the grounds hand-in-hand, whispering in each other’s ears, pressing intimate kisses to each other’s cheeks. Her eyes catch sight of the tree – she likes to think of it as hers – where she and Dedue spend their free time, borrowing each other’s notes. Watching stars late into the night when the rest of the world is sleeping. He tells her about Duscur under that tree. Teaches her about his gods and goddesses. Describes wonderful dishes and fascinating customs. He brings her flowers he’s grown in the greenhouse. They hold hands._

_She wants more than anything to spend time with him tonight, of all nights. Maybe even take a trip up to the Goddess Tower if he feels so inclined, though that’s a wish she feels a little embarrassed to even acknowledge. _

_Perhaps she should go back into the hall and brave the crowds to find him. He’d be around certainly – the ball was a mandatory event, after all…_

_She hears quiet footsteps and, as if summoned, Dedue moves to stand beside her. Her heart flutters as she looks up at him, his trademark stern expression painted on his face. He looks quite handsome – his well fitted dress shirt a deep blue and his golden earring glinting in the candlelight._

_“I was just thinking about you,” she smiles at him._

_“And I you,” he replies, meeting her gaze. “You are not dancing,” he observes, though she knows he means it as more of a question. She laughs lightly._

_“The crowd makes me a bit uneasy,” she admits. “I wanted to step out for some air.”_

_“Then it seems we are on the same page.”_

_A beat of silence falls between the two of them. She takes his hand, turning her eyes back to the monastery grounds. Tenderly, he rubs his thumb across her skin. She wants to remain in this moment forever. Gentle strings start up a new song, and Dedue seems to perk up slightly._

_“Would… would you wish to dance with me? Out here?” he asks softly. She can feel her heart fly up to her throat and she’s so happy she could soar._

_“I would love to,” she nods eagerly. He offers his hand and she accepts. “You know this dance?”_

_“It is one of the few traditional Fódlan dances I’ve learned, yes,” he says. “Though my mastery of the footwork is questionable at best.”_

_“I’ll be your guide,” she giggles._

_They are so close she wonders if he can feel her heart pounding in her chest._

_“You look quite handsome,” she blushes. “Your formal clothes suit you.”_

_“Your praises are too lofty,” he says, embarrassment crossing his face. “And I pale in comparison to you,” he dips her, low, but holds her steady._

_She looks into his grey eyes and time seems to stand still as he pulls her closer, upright, their faces inches apart. They stop dancing and everything seems to melt away but the two of them. His breath dances across her cheeks, warm, soft. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes sparkle. _

_“You are so beautiful,” he continues, but his voice is soft, almost as though the observation was a thought he hadn’t meant to speak out loud. She reaches a hand up to cup his face. He still looks serious – he always does – but there’s something different about his expression. Something determined, hungry. She bites her lip, noting that his eyes seem fixated on them. She wants to kiss him._

_And so she does._

_She leans forward, closing the distance between them, pressing her lips softly to his. He stiffens, seeming surprised at first, but quickly melts into her touch, kissing her back. His grip around her waist tightens and she parts her lips, wanting to taste more of him, wanting to drown in him completely._

_She smiles into the kiss._

_When they finally come up for air, she feels lightheaded, like her heart could burst. Dedue presses his forehead gently against hers, letting out a happy sounding hum._

_“That was lovely,” she giggles shyly. _

\---

They do not speak on the march back to Garreg Mach. The silence between them feels uncomfortable for the first time. Like an extension of the five years they’ve spent apart. Dedue isn’t cold to her by any stretch of the imagination, but he seems… different somehow. Of course, there are a hundred reasons for it. Time, circumstance – who knows what he’d had to endure while waiting for rescue. She felt selfish expecting anything from him, yet her heart burned to know where exactly they stood. But that didn’t seem a question Dedue is keen on answering for her.

Annette notices their reunion is less of a reunion and more of an awkward dance of avoidance.

“Did something happen, Mercie?” she asks gently, taking her hand. “I mean, I know it isn’t my business, but you can talk to me if you need to.”

“Nothing happened,” she responds with a laugh, but it sounds fake, even to her own ears. “Things are just different now, Annie.” That’s what she keeps telling herself. “It’s been a long time.”

“The two of you used to be so close,” Annette clicks her tongue sadly, but she doesn’t push the topic. Mercedes is grateful for this.

More so, she’s grateful Annette seems to be the only one that’s picked up on the awkwardness between them. It’s easier to ignore when others aren’t constantly pointing it out.

Or it is, until several weeks later when they’re assigned a scouting mission together. Just the two of them.

Imperial soldiers seem to be marching toward the monastery. It wouldn’t be incredibly concerning were they not planning their assault on the Empire so soon. Ferdinand and Lorenz seem convinced the soldiers aren’t part of the Empire’s main faction. They may not even be true Imperial soldiers. Whatever the case, the possibility of the army being bait seems likely. It’s too small a force to pose a real threat, but letting them pass by unchecked seems a mistake. Before making any moves, it’s best to lay low and gather information.

Combined, Dedue and Mercedes have the ability to dispel such a small force if it comes to it – Mercedes’ healing abilities will come in handy should the worst happen. Though, a party of two is small enough that the chances of being detected are low.

And so, they saddle their horses in silence, Mercedes pretending to be lost in thought. The Imperial force is a day’s ride west and she can’t bear the thought of making the entire journey without speaking.

“It’s nice to be able to travel outside of the monastery like this,” she says, finally breaking their silence. “When we first gathered here, it was impossible to avoid bandits. Riding into town was too dangerous, even. Not that it’s safe now, I suppose. Otherwise we wouldn’t be out doing what we’re doing,” she starts rambling, feeling nervous.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he says simply.

The sun is setting by the time they reach the Imperial camp. They leave their horses several miles back – it’s easier and quieter to be on foot, though the forest gives them more than enough cover. They crouch in silence, listening in as the soldiers set up camp.

It seems Ferdinand and Lorenz were correct in their assumptions. The small band of soldiers seem to be bait, but it’s a lazy tactic. And it doesn’t sound as though the band is connected to the main Imperial army. Are there offshoots branches of the army? Ones that Edelgarde doesn’t control or know of? Perhaps the band was formed by one of the other Imperial nobles. It is hard to say. Nevertheless, they have their answer. Dedue signals their retreat.

They are only a short distance away from the main Imperial camp – a distance that should have been safe – when Mercedes stops. It sounds as if someone is following them.

She turns, curious, and her suspicions are confirmed. There’s a small group of soldiers – ones who had clearly been sent to gather firewood, as a small pile of sticks and logs lays abandoned a short few feet away. She doesn’t have time to act before the leader takes a few short strides and presses his blade to her throat.

“Just when we thought our little trap wouldn’t catch any prey,” he laughs.

She hears Dedue call her name, the anger in his voice palpable. The Imperial soldier turns her around, so she can face Dedue – his blade cutting into her skin ever so slightly. He’s running toward her.

“If you come any closer with your weapons on you, I’ll take her head off,” the captain warns. Dedue stops in his tracks, slowly raising his hands.

“That’s better. Drop your axe on the ground.”

Dedue moves slowly, taking his large axe in his hand and holding it parallel to the ground. He makes eye contact with Mercedes, and she understands he’s trying to tell her something. To trust him. She closes her eyes as he quickly lifts his arm and throws the axe at the man holding her captive. She ignores the sickening thudding sound of the axe making contact with the man’s skull. She feels his grip slacken and opens her eyes, turning on the other soldiers. She can hear Dedue running up behind her to retrieve his axe as she conjures a fireball, launching it at the two soldiers closest to her. Dedue grapples with the other, quickly overpowering him.

He quickly returns to her side, flicking the blood off his axe and onto the ground. They’ve made far too much noise. Even if, by some miracle, the soldiers at the camp didn’t hear the fight, they’d come looking for their missing comrades before too long.

“Are you hurt?” Dedue asks, his concern clear.

She shakes her head. He takes her hand and they run.

\---

_“You were hit,” he observes. His brow furrows. “I saw it.”_

_“I’m fine,” she says, brushing off his concern, but he can see her wince with every move. “We should regroup with the others. I can’t leave all the healing to Flayn and Annette. They’re surrounded by divine beasts back there.”_

_She moves to walk back toward the camp, or where she thinks the camp is – it’s hard to have any sense of direction in the thick fog and he can’t say for certain he knows where camp is or where the rest of their classmates are – but he catches her in his arms. He’s gentle, his touch more of a plea. A plea to stay. To rest. _

_“Dedue,” she whispers, turning back to face him. “Really, I’m fine. We’re in danger if we stay here.” He shakes his head._

_“You could permanently injure yourself. Your energy is sapped, you’re too tired to heal yourself, let alone make the journey back. Just rest for a moment and let me help.” he says softly, leading her to a stump not that far off. He helps her sit. “Where does it hurt?” he asks._

_She pulls her skirts up to her thigh, revealing what would be creamy white skin, but instead an angry red burn covers her upper right thigh. It’s worse than he thought. He purses his lips, not wanting to betray concern, but Mercedes likely knows how bad it is. She knows more than he does about healing._

_“What’s the verdict, doctor?” she asks, a teasing tone in her voice. She’s trying to lighten the mood, but he knows she must be in great pain._

_“Why didn’t you say anything about this sooner?” He asks, busying himself with his travel pouch. He has a vulnerary _somewhere.

_“I didn’t want to be a burden,” she says simply. _

_He stops his movements, looking up at her._

_“A burden?” he repeats, incredulously._

_“I know I’m not strong like you and I’m not as good at magic as Annette,” she says, “I just want to make sure I don’t slow anyone down. I want to be useful.”_

_“Throwing yourself into the line of fire on my behalf isn’t useful,” he scolds, busying himself once more. He’s found the vulnerary he was looking for earlier and pulls some bandages and herbs from his pouch – the herbs are from the greenhouse, from Duscur – and begins mixing them with the vulnerary to create a salve of sorts._

_He doesn’t expect to hear Mercedes laugh. _

_“I’m sorry,” she explains, “I know you’re right, I should be more careful. It’s just that… you’re so cute when you’re serious.”_

_He freezes. _

_Cute was not really a word that had ever been used to describe him, but hearing Mercedes say it made a warmth spread in his chest._

_“Even so,” he hums, hiding his smile, “Please do not take damage on my behalf.”_

_“No promises,” she says sweetly, still giggling a little, but her voice is much softer now. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t let anything happen to you, Dedue.”_

_“This might sting a bit,” he says slowly, dipping his fingers into the salve. “But it won’t last long.” Mercedes grips the log tightly, her knuckles white, but she doesn’t make a sound as he gently applies a layer to the burn._

_“What have you mixed?” she asks, distracting herself from the sharp stinging that was likely shooting up her leg._

_“Vulneraries are good, but they don’t seem to do much in the way of getting rid of pain,” Dedue explains. “So the herbs should help. I grow them in the greenhouse. I can show them to you, if you’d like to use them in your own healing practices.”_

_He finishes applying a thin layer of salve to her skin, the redness already fading to a pink. It will take healing magic to truly cure the wound, but he’s at least prevented infection and further pain. He gently wraps the bandage around her leg, tying it securely, but gently. It only needs to hold until they reach camp._

_“Better?” he asks._

_“Much better,” she nods._

_He helps her stand and she takes a few ginger steps, no longer wincing. He gathers his things and offers his hand. She takes it, beaming at him._

_“Mercedes,” he says, as they walk, “Thank you.”_

\---

It’s too dangerous to make camp in the woods as they’d originally planned. They ride for several hours, finally stopping at a small village, too tired to go on. They’re close enough to the monastery that it seems unlikely they’ll be followed.

There’s only one small inn, but the innkeeper is kind. He feeds them despite the late hour of their arrival, and offers to let their horses stay in his stable.

“I’m afraid I only have one room,” he says, as he leads them through the halls. “Our village has been fortunate to avoid attacks, but… some of the surrounding villages have had beasts come in the night. Destroying homes and taking lives. I’ve offered to take in who I can.”

“You have no need to apologize,” Mercedes smiles. “May the goddess smile upon you for your kindness.”

The innkeeper leads them into a small room. “My personal quarters are upstairs,” he says, “Please feel free to fetch me if you need anything.” He bows and closes the door behind him.

There’s already a fire crackling in the fireplace, and the window is open, letting a cool breeze into the room. A large canopy bed takes up most of the room. Mercedes finally feels the exhaustion settling into her limbs as she looks upon it.

Thunder rumbles softly outside.

“You can have the bed. You must be exhausted.” Dedue says and the awkwardness returns. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” He turns his back toward her, taking a pillow from the bed before stepping toward the fire and sitting on the floor.

He’d held her hand as they ran from the soldiers, but it felt nothing like it did back in their Academy days. She still felt safe with him, her skin still tingled where he touched, but something felt… missing.

And now, here they are at an inn with only one room and one bed. The goddess must certainly have a sense of humor.

She and Dedue used to sleep in each other’s arms years ago. If she accidentally dozed off during one of their study sessions, he’d let her. She’d nap in his arms until the monastery bells woke her, announcing the next class. The memory seems so distant. Almost a lifetime ago. Of course, it goes without saying, it won’t be like that now. They haven’t spoken unless it was out of necessity, let alone touched. Still, she couldn’t bear the thought of making him sleep on the floor.

“I’m not tired just yet. You go ahead and take the bed,” she lies. She can’t meet his gaze. “I’ll wake you in a couple hours.” She walks out of the room, no particular destination in mind, other than getting as far away as possible.

There’s a small pond just behind the inn. It’s quiet except for the chirping of crickets and frogs. Peaceful, even. She sits by the bank, pulling her knees up to her chest.

It isn’t that she can’t handle it if things are different the two of them now. It’s that his distant. Different. Maybe it’s all in her head. Then again, maybe it’s not.

Who knows what he went through in the past handful of years. What he had to suffer in Dimitri’s stead. His face has aged – he looks older now, still handsome, but his eyes seem to hold a sad depth they didn’t before. His face is littered with scars. Her heart aches to think of how he must have been in constant pain at the hands of the Empire. Had they tortured him for information?

And yet, here she was, behaving childishly – pouting that he didn’t immediately pull her into his arms and kiss her. That he wasn’t open and charming with her like he had been back in the Academy days. She feels guilty enough she could cry.

“Mercedes?” Deue’s soft voice cuts into her thoughts. He approaches slowly, but she doesn’t turn to look, even as he sits beside her. She pulls her shawl tighter around herself and hurriedly brushes her tears away.

“Something is troubling you,” he says, though it comes out as more of a question. She bites her lip, clearly thinking through what she wants to say.

“Oh, no,” she looks down at her feet. “Really, it’s selfish. I’ll be fine.”

“It is cold,” is all he can manage to say in response. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“Have I done something to upset you?” she blurts after a beat of silence. She doesn’t mean to ask.

“No,” he says simply, a little bewildered. His breath catches in his throat. “You could never upset me, Mercedes.”

“I’m glad for that at least,” she sighs, looking a little relieved, but her brow is still furrowed.

Dedue curses that he isn’t better with words. It isn’t that there’s a language barrier. It’s more that he lacks courage to ask for an answer to his questions. He wants to ask if she’d still have him. If the feelings that blossomed between them in their Academy days were still in bloom, or if they’d withered away. He is afraid of her answer.

“I hope,” he says slowly, “that I am not the cause of your sorrow.”

“No,” she denies weakly, though her tone isn’t entirely convincing. “I suppose it’s just the circumstances of things really…” her voice trails off.

“Mercedes,” he repeats her name softly, pleading with her to trust him. She used to be able to tell him anything and it hurts that she can’t tell him now. Even before their relationship had morphed into something… more romantic, she would blabber away, not really caring if he was listening. He was, of course. He hung on to every word.

She finally looks up at him, her lip quivering.

“You’ve returned to us several weeks ago, and you haven’t held me once,” tears spill from her eyes, his heart shattering with every newly formed droplet dewing her eyelashes. “It’s a silly thing to mention. We haven’t seen each other in years and things are so different now,” words spill from her lips almost as quickly as the tears from her eyes. “Of course you’ve got a lot on your plate, Dimitri truly needs you, and I should be spending my time studying and practicing so I can support Dimitri and the professor, but –”

Gently, and without thinking, he stops her with a kiss. Her lips are just as soft as he remembers them. He’s no good with words, but he can express his feelings in other ways. He pours his desire into that kiss, the years of longing, the feelings he doesn’t have a name for – all of it – and he prays she receives his message.

She releases the tight grip on her shawl, instead bringing her hands to his cheeks and leaning into his kiss. She smells like lavender. He missed her. Gods how he _missed _her.

“Well, now I feel a bit foolish,” she says with a laugh once they break apart, her cheeks dusted with a blush. He brushes her tears away with his thumbs.

“Forgive me,” he presses his forehead against her, relishing in the feeling of her skin against his, “After all this time… after everything that’s happened, I wasn’t sure if–”

She pulls him in for another kiss – short and sweet.

“We’re quite the pair,” she laughs.

He takes her hand in his, holding it to his chest.

“I can’t promise anything with the war, but,” he starts. He’s not entirely sure how to say what he wants to say. To convey what he feels. But he doesn’t want to hold anything back. The knowledge that he could have fallen back into place with Mercedes, that things could have been exactly the way they were before the war, spurs him on. He can’t leave things unsaid when neither of them know what will happen. She is the only bright spot in their bleak present, and he wants her to know that. “I’d be overjoyed to hold you in my arms every day, if that’s what you wanted.”

Her eyes widen, glimmering, but not with tears. She beams up at him and he feels like he’s looking into the sun. She throws her arms around him burying her face in his chest.

Their brief bliss is interrupted by a rather loud clap of thunder, causing Mercedes to jump. Before they even have time to laugh it off, they’re caught in a sudden downfall, rain immediately soaking through their clothes.

“Oh no,” Mercedes laughs, pulling her shawl off and holding it above their heads. “You’ll catch cold!”

He smiles, offering her his hand, and together they stand. He gently takes the shawl from her hands, holding it over the two of them as they run back to the inn, Mercedes laughing all the while. She hurriedly falls silent as they enter, taking his hand in hers and leading him back to their room.

They kick off muddy boots, peel off wet layers of outer clothing, still managing to remain connected at the pinky. They stand for a moment, simply looking at each other. Neither of them want to be improper, so wet clothing still clings to their skin – Dedue in his uncomfortable trousers and Mercedes in a thin slip. He notes the way it gently hugs her curves, the way her skin is littered with gooseflesh, her nipples perk against the fabric.

He looks down, heat rising to his cheeks.

“Come by the fire,” she says, not seeming bothered by her state of undress, instead fussing over him. “I’m so sorry I forgot about the storm clouds.” She motions for him to sit, and he pulls her down with him. She sits in his lap, facing him, running her fingers across his skin as though she can’t believe he’s really there. Her fingers wander from his arms to his shoulders to his cheeks to his hair. He closes his eyes, leaning into her touch. Her fingers find the band holding his hair back, and twist it undone. His hair falls around his face and he can feel her fingers running through the long strands.

“I like your hair like this,” she hums. “It almost makes me miss my long hair. But it kept getting in the way during fights. Honestly, I don’t know how Annie manages.”

Her fingers drift to trace the scars lining his face – the one above his eyebrow, the one on his chin, the one across his lips. He holds her hand there, kissing her fingers.

“Your hands are cold,” he observes. He pulls her closer, taking her hands in his and pressing them against his bare chest.

Dedue only means to warm her hands against his chest, she knows this. The gesture is innocent in and of itself, but suddenly she feels she cannot get close enough to him. His skin is warm and his arms feel like home. She meets his gaze, and a wordless moment passes between the two of them before time blurs together.

His hands release hers to wander the expanse of her body. She shivers as he runs his fingers down her back and she kisses his neck, feeling his heart pounding as their chests press together. His hands move to her thighs, gently pushing the hem of her slip up, hesitantly at first as though he’s unsure this is really what she wants. She encourages him with a smile, bringing her hands to his and helping him pull the slip up and over her head – carelessly throwing the wet clothing into a corner.

The chill her bare skin feels contrasts with the heat of Dedue pressed against her, his hands still roaming the expanse of her body. His fingers rest tenderly for a moment on the scar on her upper thigh, as though calling to mind the memory, before ghosting up her ribs. He reverently presses a kiss to her chest before taking her breasts in his hands, flicking her nipples underneath his thumbs.

She lets out a soft moan and his movements seem to grow more confident, taking one of her breasts in his mouth and gently biting down. She hisses in pleasure, her hands back in his hair, holding him close to her chest. She can feel him smiling into the kisses he peppers across her chest, making his way up to her neck. She grinds her hips down, heat pooling between her legs, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel _more _of him – pleasantly surprised when she can feel his growing erection. She moves her fingers out of his hair, lightly tracing down his skin until they reach the top of his pants. She tugs them down gently, sending a silent message, knowing his pants won’t budge while they’re sitting like this.

He stops kissing her, his eyes searching her face quizzically. He looks handsomely earnest.

“You’re sure?” he asks softly, brushing her bangs to the side. She looks at him, the firelight dancing off his features, and nods, a smile forming at the corner of her lips. Goddess, she’s never wanted anything more in her life. The feeling of his feather light touches, the way his heart beats loudly against her chest, the feel of his gentle caresses meant only for her, the way he calls her name, the way he kisses her, she wants it all and she never wants it to end.

In a swift motion, he stands, still holding her, and carries her to the bed. She giggles at how light she feels in his arms – he picks her up like she weighs nothing – and settles into the mattress once he sets her down. She helps him with his pants, the two of them laughing awkwardly as they struggle to pull the tight, wet fabric off his legs. After several moments, they succeed and he ungracefully kicks them to the side. He stands before her, his expression timid – the first time she’s ever seen him like that – and her heart melts. He’s truly handsome, his broad stature never imposing. His muscles ripple as he moves, the firelight bringing another layer of rosy warmth to his dark skin. She presses a kiss to his chest – it’s as high as she can reach unless he bends down – and then presses a trail of kisses down his stomach, kneeling before him.

She takes his cock in her hand, pressing a new trail of kisses down his length, relishing in the way his breath hitches as she stops at the head. She retraces her kisses with an experimental lick, before slowly taking him into her mouth. She can’t quite describe what he tastes like – salty and heady – but she enjoys the feel of him on her tongue. She takes more of him in her mouth, the head of his cock hitting the back of her throat. He’s quiet for the most part, but the soft noises that escape his lips as she bobs her head are truly heavenly. His fingers run through her hair, never holding her head in place so he could set his own pace, simply appreciating the feel of her.

After several moments, his moans grow louder and he gently pushes her off of him. Her lips pull away with a light popping noise, and she looks up at him. His eyes are half lidded, filled with desire, contrasting with the gentle brush of his fingers against her cheek. Her body aches for him.

Perfectly in tune with her thoughts, as always, he helps her to stand, kissing her full on the mouth, clearly unbothered by the taste of him still on her tongue. He guides her back to the mattress, letting her lie back before pressing kisses to her thighs, clearly intent on returning the favor. Tenderly, he presses a kiss to the burn on her thigh before focusing his attention on the heat between her legs. He gently pulls her thighs apart, settling between them, his breath ghosting across her skin.

It feels like an eternity before he takes her in his mouth, but when he does… _oh, _when he does, she feels stars explode behind her eyes. He licks slowly at first, stopping to press kisses against her folds, coaxing moan after moan from her throat. He picks up the pace after what feels like an eternity. Her fingers fly to his hair when he sucks on her clit, his name spilling from her lips.

“Dedue,” she shivers, his name comes out as a plea. She sits up on her elbows, too embarrassed to say what she really wants from him. He gives her one last, long languid lick before standing. She moves back on the mattress so there’s room for him to sprawl out above her, taking his hand in hers and pulling him along with her. They kiss as they move, desperate, all tongue and teeth. He hovers above her, and she puts her hands on his hips, pulling them closer to her. He seems to understand her meaning, settling back on his heels. She opens herself to him, breath hitching in her throat as he lines himself up against her entrance.

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” he asks softly. She nods, closing her eyes.

When he slides into her it’s pure bliss, warmth bathing her body from head to toe. Her body easily accepts him, as though they’re two halves of a whole, fitting together perfectly. She hears him draw a shaky breath as he pushes further inside, burying his face into her neck and kissing her skin. She wraps her legs gently around his waist. Dedue’s hand finds hers and he laces their fingers together as he sets a pace, each gentle thrust deeper than the last. The room fills with the sound of their heated and heavy breaths, skin softly slapping against skin, their names on the tips of each other’s tongues. Her heart has found a permanent home in her throat, she thinks, electricity sparking off the tips of her fingers and toes with each move Dedue makes.

It doesn’t take long for him to push her over the edge – he lightly squeezes her hand as she clenches around him, her body twitching with waves of pleasure. He moves to pull out of her as she stills, but she instinctively tightens her legs around his waist.

“Keep going,” she says softly. “Until you’re satisfied.” It’s laughable that she feels embarrassed even after sharing herself so fully with Dedue, the one person she trusts above all else, but she feels the blush creep to her cheeks nonetheless.

With wordless gratitude, he presses a kiss to her forehead, moving his hips once more. She lets her free hand drag lazily down his back, feeling the way his muscles tense as he moves. He’s strong, and yet so gentle, so careful, so intentional with his movements.

It takes only a few more moments before Dedue, too, is spent. He gently whispers her name as he comes. Mirroring his movements from before, she squeezes his hand in hers, peppering kisses across his face as his hips sputter and his movements finally slow to a halt. He pauses to catch his breath before sliding out of her, rolling to his side. She cuddles up beside him, his arm wrapping protectively around her.

“I can draw us a bath,” he says after a moment, “to clean up the mess.”

“Hm, in a minute,” she sighs contentedly. “Just hold me for a moment longer.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“As you wish.”

He pulls her closer and she lays her head on his chest. All that worrying, all that heartache, all that suffering – it has culminated in this moment and she finds she’s grateful. That it is all worth it in the end. She’s in his arms again, and it feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a sad lack of deduedes fics in the tag, so I took a break from some of my other works to add a humble contribution (this took forever though because I couldn't write at work... I'd rather die than almost get caught writing smut at work sdjfksdhf) 
> 
> ANYWAYS I love these two together so much ;-;


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